


Homebaked

by BlueNeutrino



Series: Wincest Love Week [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baking, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Pie, Wincest Love Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:04:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8660857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNeutrino/pseuds/BlueNeutrino
Summary: "Wafting" is a funny word. For the prompt: Sam bakes Dean an apple pie.





	

“Wafting” is a funny word. Something about the combination of the “w” and the “ft”, Dean thinks, that just makes it seem like a word for special occasions, weirdly out of place in anyone’s everyday conversation or internal monologue. Nobody “wafts”. It’s the kind of word that shares a similarly disused place as “splendid” or “ravishing” in Dean’s vocabulary, yet as he approaches the bunker’s kitchen, the word “wafting” is exactly what springs to mind.

The smell is delicious. Sweet, fruity, carried on warm air to fill Dean’s nose with the scent of crisp, golden pastry and baked apple. It comes as a surprise.

“Dean,” Sam says with a smile as he enters the kitchen. “Just in time.”

He’s plating up a slice of fresh apple pie which he holds out to his astonished brother, who can’t help the huge smile spreading across his face. “You’ve been busy.”

“Thought I’d surprise you.”

“Well, it worked.” Dean can’t remember the last time Sam was in here cooking for fun, yet he’s just baked an entire pie from scratch. Not even picked it up from the store.

Dean accepts the offered fork and takes a moment longer to savor the smell before sinking the prongs into the pie. The pastry crumbles, splitting neatly as a fresh tendril of steam, yes, _wafts_ up from the hot pureed apple below. Dean takes a bite.

It’s every bit as delicious as it looks. The sweetness bursts across Dean’s tongue, perfectly punctuated by just the right amount of sourness from the apple, the golden pastry melting in his mouth. It tastes all the better for knowing Sam made it just for him. His brother is a surprisingly good chef. “Damn, Sammy. It’s good.”

“Is it?” There’s a flicker of relief on Sam’s face, as if for a moment he wasn’t sure Dean would like it, but of course he does. “I’ve not tried it yet. Here, let me have a taste.”

Dean’s about to hold out the plate and fork to him when he’s suddenly taken by an even sweeter surprise as Sam plants a kiss on his lips.


End file.
